


Howl at the Moon

by LeviSqueaks, MistressPandora



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: "Creative interpretations of Doggy Style" Bingo Square, "One or Both is a shifter" square, Anal Sex, Animalistic Sex, Biting, But not in London, Claiming, Creampie, Don't let Dinner Burn, Explicit Sex, Fingering, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Knotting, M/M, Pining, Possessive Sex, Public Sex, Tattoos, Unprotected Sex, Werewolves, unintentional scratching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24180673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviSqueaks/pseuds/LeviSqueaks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressPandora/pseuds/MistressPandora
Summary: While surveying his newly-granted land, Roger reveals to Ian a frightening secret about his journey back from the Mohawk years ago. This is all porn, y'all, also an AU Scene for 05.08. "Creative Interpretations of Doggy Style" square for MistressPandora's bingo card, and "One or Both is a Shifter" square for LeviSqueaks' bingo card.
Relationships: Ian Fraser Murray/Roger Mackenzie Wakefield
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: Outlander Bingo Challenge





	Howl at the Moon

Ian stared down the gentle slope from where they had set up camp. He felt the ever growing chill of grief clouding his mind as he tried to ignore the descending darkness. It would be there soon, with the sun setting in the distance, and he wanted to be ready for when it clawed at his mind. The earlier talk with Roger, their agreement rang fresh in his mind. But with the looming darkness, he found it harder to keep that promise close. He forced himself up, glancing over at Roger. The man’s haunted eyes stared unseeing into the pit they had dug for the fire and he pressed his lips together at the sight. It seemed neither of them knew how to hold onto the words when darkness fell.

Still, he had found a friend in Roger he hadn’t expected, kinship that had developed out of the misunderstanding that had dragged them both to the Mohawk. And the promise they made, a vow that meant as much as marriage in Ian’s heart. He stopped and considered that for a moment, shocked at his own mind’s acceptance of it. He approached the other man, his blue eyes searching Roger’s face before he let a hand drop to the taller man’s shoulder. His own heart settled with the warmth seeping into his fingers from the man’s body.

Roger’s big green eyes stared up at Ian and the sadness in them was pushed away as Ian squeezed. A solid hand, steady, anchoring them both for a moment. It was enough. For now, Ian could push the grief away, and Roger could drag himself from the shadows in his mind. “Grab some firewood, get it going for us, ken? I’ll find us a wee bit of supper,” Ian offered quietly. 

Roger nodded and made to rise, a sharp exhale through his nose the only actual sound he made as he headed for a pile of dried fallen branches.

Ian let his eyes linger on Roger for a moment, assessing him. His stomach lit with the warmth of the earlier touch and he frowned, turning away to hunt. He busied himself with it, setting a snare and wandering to forage as he waited. A few rabbits were all they needed, maybe some wild onions for flavor as he roasted them. 

It wasn’t long before he returned, the two rabbits he had been lucky enough to catch already dealt with, the pelts hanging from his belt until he could lay them to dry. He found the camp and the fire crackling merrily. “Well done, now we’ll eat well and stay warm,” Ian praised as he handed one of the rabbits off. He skewered his own to anchor above the fire. That done, and now waiting, he let his eyes wander over Roger’s face again. 

“Do you ever miss it?” Ian asked after several long moments. He considered the ache in his own gut and pushed himself to standing, getting up to settle beside Roger so they could be close. He did his best to ignore it by watching their dinner cook. 

Roger arched an eyebrow at Ian, returned his gaze to the fire. “Ye mean… where I’m from?” He wore the expression of a man desperate to talk about something, but afraid of the consequences.

Ian turned to stare at him and rolled up on one side, curiosity taking over the flush of heat that filled his fair cheeks with red. His eyes narrowed. “Aye,” he agreed. “That… do ye miss it?” His mind turned over possibilities, examined Roger and considered. Jamie and Claire hid things. Something neither had ever shared. What if Roger and Brianna knew it too? 

With a sigh, Roger shifted in place, not actually adjusting anything, just fidgeting, and settled again. “Aye. Sometimes.” He plucked a long blade of grass and shredded it in his lap, avoiding Ian’s gaze. “There were… things I was good at… then.” His voice was strained, of course, and raspy from weeks and weeks of disuse. “I had a place there. Here,” he froze and gave Ian a penetrating, green stare. “Here I’m just a disappointment.”

Ian stared for a moment and then sat up so that he could look down at Roger. He felt that ache and dread turn into a throb of desire in his stomach. The same want he had felt earlier when Roger had insisted he continue to fight. Placing a hand on Roger’s chest he glared down at him. “Ye are not a disappointment to me, Roger Mackenzie,” he insisted quietly. “Ye are a strong man, who fights when he needs to. Ye know the worth of others, and fight to protect it. Ye are honorable, and good,” he insisted fiercely. He leaned closer, inches away as blue eyes met green, “I willna have ye speak so poorly of yerself,” he hissed. He was frozen there a moment, before sighing and slotting his lips against the other man’s. 

There was a moment’s hesitation, the space of a single, torturous heartbeat, when Roger Mac stayed still. But only a moment, and then he gave Ian back the kiss, their stubbled chins rasping. It was glory and light and then Roger pushed him away with one reluctant hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Ian, I’m… sorry.” Roger swallowed hard, his eye flicking from Ian’s lips back up to meet his gaze. “Ye dinna want me. There’s something I canna explain.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed and he moved, lightning quick and silent, settling astride Roger’s hips. He stared down at the man and folded his arms across his chest, raising a blonde eyebrow, “Well go on then, tell me what it is that ye think will keep me from wanting you.” 

Roger’s eyes darted around the clearing, looking for prying eyes or help, or an escape before settling back on Ian. His hands rested casually on the tops of Ian’s thighs. He probably didn’t even realize he’d done it. “On my way back from the Mohawk, after I separated from Claire and Jamie. I was...attacked, ye might say.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed. Roger Mac was about to weave a tale and while he wanted to hear it, just to hear the rasp of the man’s voice and the way his body shifted and moved when he got into the telling of it, he had to make sure this would be an explanation and not just a brush off. He shifted to settle himself, a hand coming down to tease at Roger’s, fingers brushing over the sinewy lines in the man’s slender hand. “And this is why I wouldna want ye?” 

Roger stared down at their hands, flipped his wrist, and took Ian’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together. “Do ye ken what a werewolf is, Ian?”

Ian stared at Roger, waiting several moments and chuckled, relaxing. “Och aye, a fearsome beast that devours the innocent and virgins… It’s a myth Roger, I ken it well. Uncle Jamie used to tell it to me when I was wee.” He wasn’t sure why Roger was spinning a tale of werewolves and creatures of the dark but if this was what it took, a metaphor to get another kiss from the bastard… well, he would listen. 

“I was attacked by one.” He looked up at Ian, eyes absolutely serious. “Bitten. And sometimes I… change. Literally.”

Ian stared at him, eyes narrowing as dusk settled around them and the fire crackled at his back. He waited patiently for Roger to laugh, for him to call the joke. It didn’t happen. Finally he glanced up at the trees above them and back down at Roger. “Aye, very weel then,” he agreed, “is it a full moon tonight?” 

Roger took a deep breath, let it out again. “Night before, aye.”

Ian nodded in agreement and then shifted forward, a hand planting to the right of Roger’s head. “Aye, tomorrow then. Am I in danger of you turning and eating me rather than our supper?” He asked the question calmly but he had leaned closer. His eyes struggled to focus on Roger’s face, watching as his eyes darted to glance at the marks on his face. The air grew thick between them, promising something unknown in the dimming light as darkness settled around them. 

Roger held his gaze for a long time, then shook his head, the loose wisps of his dark hair shivering around his face. “No. I willna hurt ye, Ian.” He squeezed tighter the hand holding Ian’s, and with the other took Ian’s chin and angled him down for a kiss.

Ian was fierce and demanding with his kiss, delighted that Roger had dragged him close. He let his body settle on Roger's own, his cock waking up to the passion boiling within him. It had been months since he had felt this, had wanted another. But Roger was safe from the pain and suffering of Ian’s past. They knew each other, the hurts and damage, and didn’t care, perhaps even loved each other more for it. He groaned in pleasure and shifted the hand near Roger’s head up to grip the man’s long hair in pleasure. The strands were silky and free, unlike his own intricate braids, and he angled closer to deepen the kiss.

With both hands on Ian’s hips, Roger maneuvered him closer, their hardening cocks colliding through their breeches. He shoved at Ian’s coat, pushed it off his shoulders. “Skin,” Roger rasped. “Want more of it.”

Ian wasn’t about to complain, especially with how reticent Roger had just been. He quickly pressed himself up, grinding himself down on Roger’s cockstand with a breathy moan. His pale skin was flushed with desire as he dragged his shirt from his breeches. Yanking his coat off and slinging it toward his sleep roll, his shirt followed until his chest was left bare, sinew and muscle trapped in pale skin on display. He smiled down as Roger’s eyes roamed across his body and he stood to remove boots and breeches. He was desperate with wanting to feel Roger Mac spread beneath him, above him, in him. He glanced down as the fire gave a sharp pop, bringing him back to reality. Frowning as he yanked off one boot, and then the other, he reached out quickly to turn the rabbits so that they could cook on the other side before glancing at Roger. 

By the time Ian turned back to Roger, he was bare to the chest, his boots tossed carelessly aside. Those green eyes raked over Ian’s body, top to bottom and up again, and Roger hooked a finger at Ian in a brief come hither gesture. “Let me,” he said, hands at approximately fly-height, waiting.

Ian’s face split in a boyish grin and he shifted closer, reaching down to undo the ribbon holding Roger’s hair back so he could press his hands into it and control Roger’s face up to steal a kiss from him. “I willna argue or keep ye away if ye want me so badly,” he assured. 

“I do,” Roger said, voice barely audible. He worked the flies of Ian’s breeches and dragged them down, fingertips skimming along his flesh as he exposed it. Roger leaned forward and laid an open-mouthed kiss on the skin of Ian’s thigh, sucking and biting the muscle. It wasn’t enough to break the skin, but it was going to leave a hellacious bruise.

Ian groaned deeply, letting the man’s hands skim down thighs and calves before dragging his feet from his breeches then pushing Roger flat so he could undo his own pants. “I want to put my mouth on ye, make yer cock weep so ye can take me.” His words came deep and rasping with the need that had his own cock taut against his belly “Fuck, Roger!”

“Christ,” Roger muttered, wiggling out of breeches. “Aye. I dinna need much help, but aye.”

Ian grinned again and threw himself to tackle Roger back against the sleep roll. His body slid against Roger’s and their heated flesh touching dragged a moan from his throat as he kissed him. He was hungry with it. Desperate. But he quickly broke the kiss to drag his mouth down Roger’s body, pressing firm kisses and a trailing tongue against his chest. He took his time, inching downward toward his prize. He let his tongue circle a nipple, biting there quickly, teasing, before moving lower and taking Roger in his mouth. 

Roger was already hard, and Ian could taste him as he lapped a tongue across the head of Roger’s cock. He growled a bit, the taste spurring him as he sank down, mindful of his teeth. It had been years since he had done this. Flashes of Scotland and Fergus’ easy grin when he had been an awkward youth run away from his parents. He banished the images as he opened his eyes to meet Roger’s green ones and sucked firmly. 

Roger’s eyes rolled back in his head for a moment. “Oh Jesus,” he said, the last syllable coming out as a growl. He twisted his fingers in Ian’s braids. “God, do’t again.”

Ian’s eyes crinkled and he pulled up, sucking firmly as he gave himself room then popped off the head of Roger’s cock and took it in hand. He stared Roger down, eyes locked as he darted his tongue out to drag across the head of him. He watched the other man, tongue teasing at his slit and gathering the beading pleasure there. Roger was a pretty sight, flushed and desperate, his face growing ruddy from pleasure. Ian hummed, allowing himself to sink down again, bobbing his head and sucking firmly as he did. He could feel Roger grow impossibly harder and he sighed and pulled up before Roger spilled. “I need ye,” he managed, his voice deep and rasping as he fumbled with his pack. He needed a bit of oil, something to ease the way. He had tallow left from the last kill that would do well. 

Roger’s hand came down on Ian’s as he pulled out the little tin of grease. “Gi’ it here,” he said. “I want to open ye up.” Roger rolled Ian onto his back and, taking the tin, coated his fingers in the contents, only teasing him a little before sinking one finger inside of him.

Ian arched up sharply, back bowing as he cried out. It had been a long time since he had lain with a man, though he relaxed as Roger teased into him. He felt like he had been shocked, burnt from the inside out by the heat of Roger’s finger and how badly he wanted the other man. 

But Roger was patient, if relentless, and pressed on, massaging Ian. He planted a row of kisses along Ian’s shoulder and chest. “Easy now,” he whispered. “I’ve got ye.”

Ian moaned and nodded as he forced himself to relax. He let his body sag back to the sleep roll as he reached to grip Roger’s free arm, fingers curling around it. “Aye, ye have me. I’m yours.” 

Roger grinned down at Ian and eased in a second finger, tracing the tattoos on Ian’s cheek with his free hand. “Aye, that’s right. Bonny lad.” He scissored his fingers, working Ian carefully open, reducing him to a whimpering mess with his attention.

Ian’s brain had quieted, the sadness and grief retreating as he centered his entire life and existence around the man whispering sweetly to him and the fingers stretching him wide. His lidded blue eyes struggled to focus as he panted and squirmed, pressing down on Roger’s fingers. He felt the words slipping out of him before he could stop them, “Roger! Yours, need ye… want to feel ye in me, want ye to take me and keep me as yers. Please!” 

“Aye, aye,” Roger whispered over and over, into Ian’s mouth, cutting him off with a kiss that was all tongue and possession. He drew back, sinking his teeth into Ian’s lower lip. “Aye, I’ll make ye mine.” Roger pulled his fingers free and swatted Ian on the hip. “On all fours now,” he ordered, retrieving a generous helping of the grease and warming it between his hands. “Aye, that’s a good lad,” Roger said as Ian scrambled to obey, slicking his cock with the grease and settling behind Ian. He knelt behind Ian, one hand lining up his cock with Ian’s entrance, the other resting on Ian’s stomach, holding him steady.

Ian settled himself, pressing down solidly into the hand holding him and whining high as Roger pressed into him. His eyes fluttered shut and he let his arms drop so that his back dipped and arched to give Roger better access. He could feel the man sliding into him, the soft, rasping reassurances soothing him as he panted and pressed back so Roger entered him fully. “Mine too. Ye’re mine,” he managed once Roger pressed fully into him, a shiver roaming down his spine. 

The sun had just set and the milky fog of twilight gave way to full dark, their fire casting their shadows into the grass. Roger started a slow rhythm, easy, both of his hands digging into Ian’s hips now, trembling with the effort of control. “Christ, man,” he hissed, bending over Ian to scrape his teeth across the taut skin of his back. “Tell me. Tell me when ye’re ready for more.” Roger let out a growl low in his throat, a strained kind of rumble. “I only want to break ye a wee bit. I dinna want to damage ye permanently.”

Ian cried out, his hands scrambling for purchase and clawing at the dirt. “Fuck! Yes, I need it… please mo chridhe. I need you,” Ian begged for him. He arched up into the teeth at his neck, heart racing and eyes fluttering shut as he arched his back to present himself to Roger. “Take me, Roger… I need to feel ye. I--.” He needed to make sure that this was real and not a dream. 

The low rumbling growl Roger made this time sounded different, but then Roger set a brutal pace, pounding into Ian over and over again. His fingers dug into Ian’s sides, nails jabbing into the flesh with a delicious sting. “Touch yerself,” Roger panted, tightening his grip.

“If I do, I dinna ken if I can hold out,” Ian panted as he shuddered under the punishing pace and brutal thrusts. Shivers wracked his spine and he cried out hoarsely as Roger slammed into his prostate. Each thrust sent sharp shocks of pleasure rocketing through his gut. His cock leaked steadily onto the bedroll, welling with each thrust. He closed his eyes and sobbed as he reached down, squeezing tight around the base of his cock rather than stroke himself. He collapsed down as a chill raced through his body, resting his forehead on the wrist of his other hand. Suddenly something teased at the edges of his arse and he clenched tight around Roger, “What is--”

Roger’s fingernails in Ian’s skin were sharper, thicker, more painful. The sounds he made were lower, more… canine. “Shite, I was afraid this might hap--” Roger’s cock seemed to swell at the base, moving up the shaft, pushing its way inside Ian. 

Ian cried out, keening lowly as he dropped his hand from his cock to the ground and dug his fingers in. He panted with the new sensation, feeling too full and desperate for more. He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. He felt the pressure and rasp as that swollen spot pushed into him and slid out, just barely catching. He grunted, a flush of pained pleasure rushing over him. He knew he wanted everything Roger could give him, would take no less than the entirety of the other man. He forced his body to relax and then thrust back against Roger, grinding them together. He felt the swell of the other man’s cock shift and force into him until suddenly the pressure popped and he was tied to Roger as the man’s cock locked into him. “Christ! Fuck, Roger! God, so good,” he managed even as he screwed his eyes tight. He could feel Roger pulsing within him and it brought a deep flush to his cheeks. 

Roger raked his hands down Ian’s chest, shaking with the effort of not digging in. Ian could feel the sharp tips of fangs along his shoulder and chest, skimming but not biting. Growling again, this time sounding almost entirely inhuman, Roger pressed his forehead into Ian’s back and wrapped one arm around his middle. He yanked Ian hard against him, his other hand wrapping around his leaking cock. When Ian looked down, he saw that Roger Mac’s hand was now covered in a patch of dark fur, fingers ending in claws. Roger was careful not to scratch him as he worked him.

“Christ!” It felt like Ian’s brain was leaking from his ears as he struggled to find another word to use. God knew he loved it all and the sense of danger that raced through him tightened his gut as precum streamed from his cock. He wanted it. “Yes, ye’re perfect Roger, I need you to stop holding back,” he breathed. He arched so that Roger’s next rough grind into him, the next thick pulse inside of him ripped a sob from his throat as he squeezed tight around him. He felt his body tremble and go taut before that spring inside of him snapped and he came, painting the ground with his release. 

Releasing Ian’s cock, Roger took hold of his hips, claws biting into his flesh painfully. Roger pounded into him, ruthless and brutal, and every rapid thrust knocked the wind from Ian’s lungs. At last, Roger let out a howl, holding Ian close as he filled him. He collapsed over Ian’s back, wrapped his arms around him, and brought them both down onto the bedroll. “Don’t try to move, ken,” Roger said, panting. “We’re stuck tight for a while.”

Each of those thrusts had felt like Ian was nigh ripping in two with the knot holding them locked. But he had loved every moment of it and he reached down to wrap his own arms around Roger’s and arched his neck to crane back for a kiss. “Aye. Good. I dinna want ye to disappear on me,” he murmured drowsily as he settled himself, back flush against the other man. 

They had a million things to discuss, the least of which being Brianna and their family. What came next. If this would continue or remain their secret in the woods. Still, those were troubles for daylight and birdsong. Tonight, they could just be. 

Fin.


End file.
